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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576847">The Mental Kind of Growth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98'>ForensicSpider98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love After the Fact [48]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:42:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith and Lance practice their skills as warriors, rulers, and a couple.</p><p>If any of you have anything you want to see happen in this series, either as part of the plot of a side episode, I am ALWAYS open to requests, and have been taking notes, so do not hesitate to drop a hint in the comments below! &lt;3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk &amp; Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love After the Fact [48]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>216</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Mental Kind of Growth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a longer episode, to make sure everything stays on track for Episode 50! I've heard your requests, and have adjusted accordingly &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's been a phoeb and a half, and Lance’s sparring has improved dramatically. From one strike, to two, and onward into minutes, into technique, into refinement, Keith's amazed at his progress.</p><p>He’s come to move, if not entirely with confidence, then with enough grace to convince otherwise. The natural poise that carries him through the halls of the castle has transferred well into a mixed swordsman style, taking influence from the Alteans’ refinery and the Galra’s tenacity. </p><p>It suits Lance well, Keith thinks, the combination of dignity and violence. It fits the burn in his blue eyes whenever he draws his sword. He wonders what his husband thinks of to make his eyes blaze like that. He’s not certain he wants to know. He <em> is </em> certain he wants to see how Lance handles combat with his bow, but Lance has yet to bring it to training.</p><p>“Well done,” Keith murmurs, softly smiling. They’re keeping their budding romance behind closed doors for now. Keith supposes it’s because Lance is afraid to make fuss in case he doesn’t meet the Altean’s expectations. He certainly doesn’t live up to Lance’s typical opulence, decked out in jewels and gold ornaments for breakfast and new ones for lunch. Keith’s style is far more… holistic.</p><p>“Thank you.” The Altean’s skin glitters with perspiration, chest rising, straining against his stiff clothes. </p><p>Keith reaches out, undoes the clasps of Lance’s delicately embroidered vest, listens to the great breath Lance takes in. “We need to find you something better to train in. Armor or something. I won’t have the Crown Prince of Altea fainting on us.”</p><p>“I have ceremonial armor, but it’s heavier than the clothes we had for the frost ball. Heavier than my wedding clothes!” Lance beams goodnaturedly despite the obvious strain on his body.</p><p>“Still.” Keith makes to inspect the Altean’s fingernails for some indication of oxygen intake, but they’re painted blue. His gaze roves over his face instead, over cheeks flushed beneath scales and paling skin around his lips. “I don’t like you training in these clothes. It’s fine if you're just doing a few forms here and there, but now? It’s not healthy. No more until you get something suitable.”</p><p>“Always so confident when you’re on the training field.” Lance leaves his vest open, gives a cocky spin of his sword to match the crooked smile on his face. “I quite hope to see more of it.”</p><p>“Shut up and swing your sword,” Keith growls, extending his own blade. They meet in a flurry of sparks, Keith’s platoon pausing to watch as the first strike of a new round rings out across the yard. Keith leaps back, turning to his soldiers. “Did I tell any of you you were done for the day?”</p><p>“No, but watching you flirt is more interesting.”</p><p>“Extra lap, Ryan. Gods forbid I flirt with my own husband.”</p><p>“Disgusting, Prince Yorak. Shameful, unprofessional behavior.” Lance leans on the point of his sword, squealing, flailing as it gives way beneath him.</p><p>Keith drops his ears, letting his tail swish across the floor, feigning unamusement. “Shameful behavior, eh? You would be the expert.”</p><p>The soldiers laugh. </p><p>“Expert in <em> fun </em>, you mean. Don’t worry. You’ll learn soon enough.” Lance gives an exaggerated wink, and Keith just groans, rolls his eyes. The soldiers laugh some more. They’re easily charmed by the geniality of the crown prince, the familiarity between their future kings.</p><p>It’s grown easier, being together. Keith feels at ease with Lance, with his place in the castle. Lance has begun to ask him if he’ll be coming to meals, to court, to some meeting or tea or another, always looking hopeful, always looking at him with eyes made of moons.</p><p>It makes Keith feel so light he might float away.</p><p>Sitting through court makes him feel the exact opposite. Listening to Ladies Seran and Renli prattle and scream about the latest slight against their children for some doboshes strains his patience and his ears, finally forcing him to close his eyes, tipping his head back against his throne. </p><p>Lance attempts to coax the ladies out of their fury, citing his spouse’s sensitive ears, but his errant concern for someone other than them sends the women into renewed screaming. The constant assault on one of his most delicate sensory organs has Keith’s head and ears pulsing. Eventually, his patience evaporates. </p><p>“Ladies, enough!” Lance does nothing to stop Keith as he rises to his feet. “Do you know what sort of complaints I would be hearing back on my home planet? Kits <em> without </em> parents and parents whose kits have <em> died </em> . On my home planet, kits starve or have been killed by <em> your </em> soldiers, and yet you stand here and scream because a vendor refused to hand over their wares to <em> your </em> kits for free? You are both perfectly well, as are your… <em> well-accommodated </em>kits. Be grateful for your blessings and be on your way!”</p><p>“HOW DARE-”</p><p>“Leave now, or the guards will show you out.” Keith throws himself back into his chair with a groan, massaging at the fronts of his ears, jostling his new circlet. “And do learn how to project your voice as opposed to shrieking. My poor ears…”</p><p>Lance merely bites his lip against a laugh, taking a moment to compose himself while the furious women are shown away. Once they are gone, he clears his throat. “Thank you, beloved. I’m very sorry about your ears. Now then, who’s next?”</p><p>“I am, your Majesties.” An older Altean, older than the kings, marches up to the edge of the dais. Oddly enough, Lance realizes, he rarely sees people of this man’s status here: those of the lower classes, the farmers, the smiths, miners, the people the court don’t wish to look at.</p><p>Keith envies the old man’s clothes, the way they’re loose except at the waist, which is cinched with a wide belt. He’s missed clothes like those. They make him think of home. Glancing around, no one seems to share his interest, all muttering, some frowning at the dusty prints on the pale blue carpet.</p><p>“And how may we be of service to you, sir?” Lance asks. Keith sighs with relief at the smile in his spouse’s voice. The elder man draws himself up, proud, dignified, important. It’s immediately evident that this man is someone of importance where he comes from.</p><p>“Your Majesties, I must tell you the road between the city and my commune is quite damaged, and our vessels cannot travel into the city to deliver our crops. They rot in the fields!”</p><p>“Damaged?” Lance raises an eyebrow, frowning. “Then why has it not been fixed?”</p><p>“It is the King’s Road, your Majesties, and thus my commune does not have jurisdiction. I was not even permitted to acquire the necessary materials.</p><p>“I have inquired as to the road a decaphoeb ago now, and it still has not been fixed. I understand your Majesties are very busy, but my commune… We have no way of transporting our goods. My people are suffering, your Majesties. They are relying on me to rectify this problem.”</p><p>“Wait. You’re telling me that you came here once before seeking help and were turned away?” Keith asks.</p><p>“No, your Majesty. I was assured that the roads would be fixed. But they haven’t been, and my people are struggling to get by. Our resources have been depleted. The last of our coin went toward the royal taxes, coin we need for clothes and supplementary foods. We will soon have no choice but to take to poaching.”</p><p>Lance’s frown deepens at the thought of his people scraping their resources together to pay taxes to a Crown that failed them. He turns his gaze to Adam, who searches through his datapad. “There is no record of the headman’s request, your Majesty. It must have been lost.”</p><p>“Not good enough,” Keith declares. “What is your name, headman?”</p><p>“Riel, your Majesty. Headman of Commune Larsemik.”</p><p>“Headman Riel, my husband and I apologize for the disservice done to your commune, and we humbly ask your forgiveness. Workers will be dispatched promptly to repair the King’s Road. In the meantime, please speak to Adam regarding your losses due to the Crown’s error. You will be compensated, both in money and material. Feel free to be a bit… hyperbolic.”</p><p>Lance cuts in where Keith drops off. “Furthermore, if you would do me a service, in return?”</p><p>“Of course, your Majesties. It would be my pleasure.” </p><p>His response makes Keith sick. The man genuinely means it. </p><p>“Stay, if you can, until this evening. Prince Yorak and I rarely hear from the lowlands, and we understand the journey is a long and treacherous one. Still, your commune and those of your fellows are valuable, and the people in them are as valuable as any here. If you would stay, we would hear of our brethren and their well-being, and see if there might be some way that communication from the lowlands might be made more feasible for both of us.”</p><p>Riel regards them both for a moment, then nods his head. “I thank you, your Majesties. I would be happy to stay.”</p><p>“It is we who thank you, Headman Riel.” As he speaks, Keith takes Lance’s hand. He imagines that to this old farmer, they seem beautiful, untouchable, all-powerful. It’s all a matter of perception. “It is a duty, a pleasure, and an honor.”</p><p>Speaking to Riel proves invaluable. As it turns out, he is sort of the headmen’s headman, and knows practically everything that happens in the communes skirting their mountain kingdom. He’s happy, too, to teach the princes. He doesn’t even bat an eye at Keith, who still receives his fair share of odd glances and side-comments on the daily.</p><p>Lance learns that, thanks to his new tax system, certain communes will be able to afford much-needed equipment or more seeds for a larger harvest. Some communes would still benefit from subsidies. Riel’s commune would gladly host the princes should they wish to visit the lowlands during planting or harvesting season. And-</p><p>“These days, we find ourselves shorthanded.” Riel sighs. “Not dangerously so, but just enough to notice. Still, we must produce the same or greater harvests as commerce goes to the stars. There are fewer of us, your Majesties, and no way to fill out our numbers.”</p><p>“It is the same everywhere, my friend. There are just enough empty homes, empty stores, and empty chairs to feel an absence.” Lance smiles, a little small, very sad. “I may raise our child limit very slightly. Just to one-point-five-to-one. It will take time for our population to recover, but we cannot be allowed to grow beyond our means.”</p><p>“Well,” Riel rises to his feet. “I am glad to know that the future of our planet rests in capable hands. You are both well on your way to being legendary leaders.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Keith says, rising also. “That means a lot, coming from one such as you. We look forward to seeing your commune, and I look forward to seeing the lowlands.”</p><p>“Agreed.” Lance shakes Riel’s hand. Keith’s surprised when the old Altean grips his arm instead.</p><p>“Good to meet a Galra under these circumstances. Ancients know I got tired of killing you.”</p><p>Keith laughs. “We got tired of killing you, too. I’m glad we’ve move forward after all this time.”</p><p>“As am I, your Majesty.”</p><p>"Are you sure you won't stay? It will be quite late by the time you arrive at your commune." Lance smiles, much like he already knows the answer.</p><p>"I cannot, your Majesty. My son and his wife did not survive the war, and my grandchildren will no doubt be waiting up to see me. Triplet girls, eight. I'll tell you something: fear the age of eight. They get mean, and they get sassy!"</p><p>Laughing, Lance slips his arm around Keith’s waist, smiles when his tail twists around his ankle. “Very well. You will find a shreika waiting for you by the gates. No need to return it. Consider it a gift. Also, there will be some dinner for you in the saddlebag.”</p><p>Headman Riel bows as he exits, leaving the princes alone. Lance’s cordial smile fades, replaced by the usual post-court exhaustion and some deeper troubles.</p><p>“Lance? You don’t seriously think Alfor would disregard a headman’s request, do you?”</p><p>“N- No, of course not. He wouldn’t do that.” Lance sighs, smiling. He takes the time to give his spouse a kiss. “My father is a lot of things, but needlessly cruel isn’t one of them. All the same, I hate that it happened. Come on. You’ve been quite hungry lately. We should get you something to eat.”</p><p>Keith heaves a shaky breath, thinking of everything coming his way. It’ll be good, he knows, full of new discoveries and experiences. But first? Dinner.</p><p>“Are you gonna join us, beloved, or do you want to go back to our rooms?”</p><p>“I’ll join you.” Lacing their hands together, Keith leads the way out of the sitting room. Lance grins, more than happy to follow. “After dinner, I’d like to research more about the lowland communes. I was able to follow along alright, but I’d like to know more.”</p><p>“As would I, truth be told. We’ll grab some tablets and head back to our rooms. Maybe Adam will join us. Hunk and Pidge might, too. We can all do a work night together.”</p><p>“Sounds good. I can keep arguing with them about whose kits will be more useful.”</p><p>“They’re only arguing about usefulness because they know ours will be the cutest.”</p><p>“Oh, absolutely. No contest. Except maybe Allura and Lotor’s baby.”</p><p>“Pfft, they wish. Hello, Dad! Hello, Father!” Lance dances his way into the dining room. </p><p>“Hello, Lance!” Coran smiles. “And hello, Keith! How are you boys doing today?”</p><p>“Pretty good.” Keith settled in front of his plate. There was noticeably more food on it than usual. “Lance, would it kill you to accept the boundaries of normal people who can’t slip inside my skin and find out all of my biological secrets?”</p><p>“Were <em> you </em> going to ask for more food?”</p><p>Glaring at his spouse, Keith shoves a spoonful of beans into his mouth, flicks another spoonful at Lance’s face. “That’s my business.”</p><p>“Rude!” Lance pulls back his own spoon, eager to retaliate-</p><p>“Lance…”</p><p>Leave it to Coran to be the one who cares about table manners. But underneath the table, Keith squeezes his hand. The smile on his face promises they can goof around later.</p><p>Then Keith stomps on his foot with a snicker. Unbelievable.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next time on Love After the Fact: Lance's relationship with his father shifts dramatically, and with it, the balance of power.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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